


lock the doors and close the blinds (we're going for a ride)

by youhaventyet



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: F/F, Gen, Rule 63, a lot of platonic kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:49:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2052438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youhaventyet/pseuds/youhaventyet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, just asking, but how about going to LA together this summer?” Taiga asks her, one week later, her computer’s camera doing her grin no justice.</p>
<p>working title: Tatsuko & Taiga's Great Summer Adventure in Los Angeles</p>
            </blockquote>





	lock the doors and close the blinds (we're going for a ride)

**Author's Note:**

> so, i feel like i could've developed this plot _a lot_ better than i did, but, alas, i was tired of looking it over and over again, so it just turned into [another](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2008866) very long rant about girls' hair. a propose of that, i imagine girl!taiga's hair like shura's from ao no exorcist (fair warning: you're gonna find a lot of boobs if you look her up on google).
> 
> title from scissor sisters' [i can't decide](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OFKUnfwBPTU), which i think describes himuro's pre-winter cup feelings for kagami pretty well.

The text arrives around eleven pm, right as Tatsuko is turning off her computer and getting ready to sleep. Her phone screen lights up, and her roommate grunts from her bed.

“Sorry,” Tatsuko whispers, and hides under her quilt. The text is short: _hey, i got your number from kuroko. just wanted to say good night. taiga._

She feels her stomach contract, and she just stares at her phone in bewilderment. _Taiga_.

_And how did Kuroko-san get my number?_ Tatsuko texts back, her fingers fumbling on the screen and leaving a smudge.

_i might’ve asked her to ask murasakibara_ , the reply comes, after five minutes in which she imagines a flustered Taiga trying to come up with a good lie, and inevitably failing.

And this is how, after almost one year of radio silence, Yosen’s loss at the Winter Cup, and Taiga going up to her with bright eyes and her ring clutched tight in her hand, Tatsuko and her little sister start talking again.

 

They’re cautious at first, but after a week of random texts, they start having video chats on Skype before going to bed at least twice a week.

It feels good to talk to Taiga again, and it’s a different kind of communication from before. They'd used to put each other on a pedestal, Tatsuko seething with envy, Taiga full of adoration - but now, finally, after almost a decade, they’re equals. Tatsuko still wishes she were better, but she’s learned to be proud of Taiga’s progress, and she doesn’t hold the fact that Taiga is better against her anymore. It’s just that: a fact.

Tatsuko still hasn’t apologized, though. It nags at her, like a constant buzzing she can’t tune out, an itch she can’t scratch.

So one night, after they’ve finished watching and thoroughly heckling the new Godzilla movie on Skype, Tatsuko says “Taiga, I… I realize that I’ve been unfair to you.” She looks away from the screen, under the pretense of checking if her roommate’s still asleep. She can only see a mop of hair from under the covers. _Take a deep breath_ , she hears, in Alex’s voice. “I was childish and jealous, and I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

She looks back at the screen, then, because she needs to see Taiga’s face. She’s blushing, and her hair, messy from only having been toweled off after her shower, is falling in waves all over her shoulders and casting a shadow on her face.

“I just… Yeah, I was hurt, and I didn’t understand what was going on, why would you…” Taiga exhales, and shakes her head. She looks at Tatsuko, then. “But we got over it. We’re okay now, aren’t we? We’re better.” Her eyes are so clear when, in one breath, she says “I just want to be your little sister again.” 

Her voice breaks over the last syllable. Tatsuko’s heart lurches, her breath hitches. She wishes she could be more direct, right then; step out of her perfect shell just this once, to tell Taiga how she’s really feeling. How deep her words hit her. But she can only say, and it’s not that bad of an attempt, really: “You’ve never stopped being my little sister, Taiga.” _Not even when I wanted you to._

The grin she gets in answer is brighter than the sun.

 

“Muro-chin is smiling so much, it’s creeping me out,” Atsuko says the next day, during lunch break. 

“What do you mean? I smile all the time.” She leans forward to clean away the grains of rice that have stuck to Atsuko’s cheeks, and she gets a close-up of her unimpressed gaze for her trouble.

“Muro-chin doesn’t always mean it,” Atsuko says, dismissive, like explaining pains her and Tatsuko is being a jerk for making her do it.

She laughs. “Well spotted. I made up with Taiga last night,” she admits.

The corners of Atsuko’s mouth twitch further down. “I hate her,” she grumbles, menacingly chomping down on a tamagoyaki.

Tatsuko rests her chin on her palm, and says “But I like her a lot. And I would like it if you two got along.”

A grunt accompanied by vicious chewing answers her.

“Because I also like you very much, Atsuko,” she concludes. Atsuko looks at her like she just ate her last Umai-bo in front of her eyes. Her glare could make flowers wither, but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s blushing. With that rosy tint on her cheeks, she looks adorable, almost delicate. Tatsuko smiles at her, big and real.

 

“So, just asking, but how about going to LA together this summer?” Taiga asks her, one week later, her computer’s camera doing her grin no justice.

 

Their plane leaves right after lunch. They catch it without problems, but of course, after approximately one hour, a kid starts crying.

Taiga’s brows twitch.

The kid is sitting on the other side of the corridor from them, and he’s probably crying because his parents are both asleep. It’s an eleven hours long flight, and you can’t have a kid crying for eleven hours. “Hey,” Tatsuko calls, leaning over the empty seat near her, and praying the kid can hear her from over the corridor. “Hey. You ok?” The kid stops crying, and turns towards her. “Everything’s alright,” she adds. “Are you bored?”

He sniffs. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to come near me? My sister and I know a lot of games.”

The kid looks at Taiga, peeking at him from over Tatsuko’s shoulder and probably frowning, and cowers. “She’s scary,” he whispers.

Taiga grunts, and Tatsuko laughs. “Then we can play just the two of us. Come and sit here,” she pats the empty sit beside her and, slowly, once he’s sure Taiga is distracted - she stares pointedly out of the window - he comes.

In the two hours they play together, Tatsuko learns that his name is Daiki - “Figures,” Taiga scoffs - he’s going to California for a week because of his mother’s work, he’s five and two quarters, really good at soccer, and he knows at least twenty different clapping games. After they’ve played all twenty of them, he winds up falling asleep with his head leaning on her arm.

“Unbelievable,” Taiga mutters. “It’s always like this. How are you so good with kids?”

“I just had a lot of practice babysitting you,” Tatsuko smiles, sweetly, which gets her a scowl. “No need to be grumpy because children are scared of you.”

“Oh my god, fuck you,” Taiga hisses, turning on the screen on the back of the seat in front of hers with a jab of her finger.

“Language,” she scolds, mildly.

“Yeah, yeah. Have fun babysitting that kid for eight hours, you jerk.” In the end, though, Daiki’s parents wake up before he does, and carry him back to his seat after thanking her for looking after him.

Tatusko flashes Taiga a peace sign, and Taiga, very maturely, ignores her.

 

Los Angeles is hot; hotter than Akita, but drier. Walking on the cracked asphalt, smelling the sugar bush growing on the edges of the street, it all gives Tatsuko a nostalgic feeling, like eating asazuke for the first time after coming back to Japan did. The late afternoon sun beats down on her shoulders as she drags her luggage behind her, feeling faint from exhaustion.

As always, Venice’s streets resound with the voices of people going to the beach and the street market, catching a bus to downtown; kids getting out of their summer camps and meeting up at the nearest street court.

Taiga’s parents’ house is big, but not as expensive-looking as Taiga’s apartment in Tokyo. It looks lived-in: the welcome mat worn almost soft and the white paint on the patio’s wall fading into yellow because of the sun beating on it.

“Where are your parents, right now?” Tatsuko asks, when Taiga shows her what will be her room for the next three weeks. The bed looks huge compared to her dormitory one, and there’s a Jackson Pollock reproduction hanging over the desk.

“In the Canaries, to celebrate their twentieth wedding anniversary. What is it called, again?” She leans against the doorjamb and puts her hand in front of her mouth to stifle a yawn.

“China, I think,” Tatsuko says. They both have dark shadows under their eyes because of the jet lag, and that’s probably why they’re having this pointless conversation, too.

“Mh, but I think that’s the traditional way to call it,” Taiga argues, undoing her ponytail and rubbing at her scalp. Her hair already is a disaster from having slept with her head pressed against the headrest on the plane, so Tatsuko doesn’t scold her as she usually would. “Well, whatever. I’m going to bed. There’s a bathroom down the hall, with a towel cabinet in the corner.”

“Okay. Sleep well, Taiga.”

“Yeah, you too.” She makes to get out of the room, but then stop, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, before she says: “I’m really happy you came.”

“I’m happy, too,” Tatsuko says, softly. Taiga smiles at her and, finally, leaves.

 

The first thing they do, after having gotten ridden of the jet lag, is go to In-N-Out. They give Alex a call, and she comes pick them up at Taiga’s house in her obnoxiously bright green Beetle coupe. 

“You should’ve told me you were coming! I could’ve picked you up at the airport! You could’ve stayed at my house!”

“Yeah, sure,” Taiga laughs, sharing a glance with Tatsuko in the rearview mirror. “Last time we stayed over, we had to do your laundry, write you a grocery list and bring out your trash. And we were _thirteen_.”

“How mean, Taiga! That’s what apprentices are for.” Alex stops in the parking lot in front of In-N-Out, and, too quick to be stopped, takes Taiga’s face between her hands and kisses her full on the mouth.

Tatsuko mercilessly leaves her to her fate, sneaking out of the car before Alex can put her paws on her too. She hears Taiga’s alarmed squeak and Alex’s laugh. She also hears “Tatsuko, where are you going?! I haven’t kissed you yet!”, but she’s already running towards the fast food’s sliding doors.

Once inside, Taiga forgets about complaining to order five Double-Doubles and eat them with tears in her eyes. “This is seriously the best thing,” she moans, and Tatsuko has to cover her mouth with her hand to hide a smirk.

It feels so good to be back to this: to Alex’s arm around her shoulder, Taiga’s laugh in her ears, and no stone weighting on her gut. Her ring rests, warm, against her skin.

 

A few days later, after they’ve settled in in Taiga’s parents house, they meet up with the guys they used to play street basketball with. They’re all amazed at how impossibly taller Taiga has got, and wonder about seeing the two of them finally together again. “Have you kissed and made up in the Land of the Rising Sun?”

They’re not exactly wrong, so they just flip them off and start a game. With the two of them teaming up, they destroy the other team, barely breaking a sweat. Seeing Taiga play still fills Tatsuko with bitterness, but lately, that feeling has been trumped down by awe. Taiga flies like a bird, her moves rougher but more beautiful than Tatsuko’s will ever be, but it doesn’t hurt. She’s found a middle ground in knowing that Taiga will always respect her as long as she loves basket, which is something Tatsuko is sure she will still do on her death bed. She’s already lost: nothing worse can happen now.

“Didn’t think they played so hard in Japan, huh?” Taiga taunts, and laughs, when everybody crowds around them, asking what the hell were those new moves and where did they pick them up. 

“How does that shoot of yours even works, Tatsuko?”

“This one,” Taiga says, sliding an arm around her shoulders, “has managed to come up with all of the trickiest moves you’ll ever see.” The pride in her voice is so strong, Tatsuko can almost feel it like a caress down her back.

“You’re making me blush, little sister,” she says, dripping with sarcasm.

Taiga knocks their shoulders together in retaliation. Tatsuko can feel their sweaty skin sticking together for a moment, then pull apart; she can feel the heat rising off the ground, the wind rustling the palm leaves carrying the smell of the ocean. The sun reflects off Taiga’s hair like a halo.

In this moment, she can feel everything. 

 

When they decided to stay together at Taiga’s house, Tatsuko had been worried about sharing space for so long. Not because she’s not used to it - she lives in a dorm, after all - and neither because of Taiga. She’s worried about herself: about all of her ill feelings coming back even stronger once they have to spend their time together. Long-distance friendship is a completely different thing from cohabitation, after all.

But after a week, Tatsuko realizes she feels more at ease here than in her dormitory at Yosen. Taiga is the ideal living partner: she’s tidy, but not compulsive about it. She doesn’t mind Tatsuko’s swimsuits hanging in the bathroom to dry, the clothes strewn around her bedroom’s floor, or the fact that she always forgets to wash her coffee mug and glass of milk in the mornings and leaves it in the sink. They split the chores evenly: Taiga cooks and does the laundry, while Tatsuko does the dishes and cleans the kitchen and living room. They take care of their own rooms, and go grocery shopping together.

“This feels disgustingly domestic,” Tatsuko comments, after they’re finished with dinner, one evening. She stretches her legs under the table, and her toes bump against Taiga’s shins. She doesn’t move away.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like it.”

“Still disgusting.” Tatsuko feels so full she could burst: Taiga always cooks too much and is always unrepentant about it. “We’re not an old couple, we’re not even out of high school.”

“We’ve known each other almost all our lives, we kind of are an old couple.”

“Oh my god, shut up. I’m doing the dishes, now.” She gets up and gathers up the plates, smiling.

“It’s peaceful,” Taiga muses, helping her balance the cutlery so it doesn’t fall on the floor. Tatsuko has to agree.

Seeing Taiga in the morning, with her eyes full of sleep and her hair messy, seeing Taiga cook with a smile, frown while she tries to decide which kind of shampoo they should buy, come in her room to ask her if she could borrow a pair of shorts to run in because hers are dirty…

Maybe she started to hate Taiga because she forgot all of these little things that make her human, and imperfect, and perfect in her own way. The things that make her feel safe and pacified when they’re together. Tatsuko makes a point not to forget ever again.

 

Atsuko made her promise to video-call her at least once a week, reasoning that, since Muro-chin was going to have fun while she would be stuck in Tokyo with her annoying family, Muro-chin could spare a bit of her time to talk to her and cheer her up. “Since you can’t buy me snacks.”

So Tatsuko calls her, right before lunch, when it’s evening in Japan and she’s almost sure to find Atsuko awake.

“Wah, Muro-chin, your skin became so dark already,” is the first thing Atsuko tells her. On her computer screen, Tatsuko can see that her hair is an unwashed mess, and that her tank-top has a suspicious stain down the front.

She sighs. “Atsuko, did you even leave your room at all in the past week?”

“Eeeh, of course. I had to go buy snacks.” Atsuko produces a popsicle from apparently nowhere and starts sucking on it, her eyes looking sleepy and bruised. “I miss Muro-chin. I forgot how expensive snacks are when I’m the only one buying them.”

Tatsuko laughs. “That’s not very nice.” She crosses her legs on the couch she’s sitting on and angles the screen to see Atsuko’s face better. She looks like a big puppy left on her own for too long. “Is it really that bad in Tokyo?”

“Mh. Everybody’s noisy. Kasan keeps reminding me that I have homework, and Onee-chan gives me hell because she doesn’t like my clothes.”

“Well, to be fair, they’re both kinda right.”

“They’re mean.” Atsuko stops for a moment, to keep the popsicle from melting down her hand. Tatsuko is so used to seeing her eat, she almost forgot how messy she can be. She watches Atsuko suck on the heel of her hand and thinks that this is her last summer as a high schooler, and that next year Atsuko will be alone at Yosen. She doesn’t like to think about it. 

“Ne, Muro-chin,” Atsuko says, dragging her back to the present. She’s looking at the screen, but not at Tatsuko, rolling the popsicle stick between her thumb and index finger. “Spend your next holidays with me.”

Tatsuko blinks. “Well, of course. We’ll have our training camp, after all.” She thinks about the Winter Cup, still far away; about winter in Akita, with the snow piling up and Atsuko spending the afternoon in her dormitory room, hogging all of her blankets.

On her computer screen, Atsuko is shaking her head. “After training camp. For Christmas. We can have a date.” She twists out of frame, then, and Tatsuko can only stare at her long legs and listen to something rustle, and try not to gape. Atsuko comes back with a box of Pocky in her hand and two sticks already in her mouth.

Tatsuko smiles. “Of course. I’d like that a lot.”

“Okay.” She nods, chewing. 

“Oi, Tatsuko, food’s ready!” Taiga calls her from the kitchen.

“Yeah, coming!” The sun coming in from the window is reflecting on her computer screen, and she almost misses Atsuko scowling. She smiles, and says: “I’ll call you again soon, don’t worry.” Atsuko grunts, already with her fingers on the keyboard. “And, Atsuko… I miss you too.”

 

Tatsuko is waiting for Taiga outside the convenience store near the house when an asshole approaches her.

She’s just got off from a call with her parents, sitting on the stone wall of a garden, and she feels someone loom over her. She turns around, and sees this guy, staring at her from far too close for comfort.

“Hey, you waiting for someone?” He’s looking at her with the kind of eyes that make her skin crawl and her fingers curl into fists. She regrets, suddenly, having worn a skirt: this guy doesn’t deserve to look at her legs - which are pretty great, if she says so herself - like that.

“Yeah, don’t worry,” she replies, and gets up, not caring if this puts her in his personal bubble. She’s just waiting for an excuse to punch him in the face.

He’s taller than her, but not by much. Shorter than Taiga. Tatsuko darts a glance to the bright lights of the convenience store. All of this because they’re out of milk. If only Alex hadn’t drilled that you have to drink a glass of milk every morning to get tall inside their little heads, and if the lesson hadn’t stuck so well, she wouldn’t be in a parking lot at ten pm with this piece of work smirking at her, saying: “No need to be on edge, cutie,” like he’s oh so cleaver.

Tatsuko is smirking, too, but that’s just her modus operandi. When they were kids, Taiga told her it was terrifying, the fact that she kept smiling when she was about to kick somebody’s ass, and then during the kicking itself, too. She’d said it with an amazed smile, though. “No need to stand so close and be so friendly, cutie,” Tatsuko replies.

She watches his face going from leering to outraged, and feels her smile widen, before something heavy falls on her shoulders. She doesn’t even have time to stiffen, though, before the smell of Taiga’s shampoo fills her nose. She relaxes against the arm around her shoulders.

“Hey, you got a problem?” Taiga asks the guy. She’s at least two inches taller than him, and she’s not smiling at all.

“Yeah, I want to take your friend out, so it’s none of your business,” he sneers.

“Too bad, she’s busy,” Taiga says, with a tone that makes Tatsuko tilt her head back to look at her. Something flashes on Taiga’s face when she catches her eyes, and before she knows it, Taiga’s mouth is pressed on hers, hard, harder than Alex’s usually is.

Tatsuko hears a sharp intake of breath from in front of them. Taiga’s lips linger just another second, before she rises her head, looks up at the guy and says, “What, you came in your pants? Piss off.”

His expression is hilarious, a mix of anger, disbelief and arousal. When he makes to say something, Taiga just lets out a growl, her hand fiddling on the ring around Tatsuko’s neck. The guy scampers away, and once he’s out of sight, Tatsuko says “What the hell was that? Did Alex’s spirit just possess you?”

Taiga lets go of her and scratches at her neck. She’s blushing, which is just adorable, anxiously clutching the plastic bag with the carton of milk in it. “I saw your face, Tatsuko. You were gonna beat that jerk blind, and what if he wanted to press charges after? You’re almost eighteen!”

Tatsuko starts to laugh, then. “Oh my god, Taiga.” She presses her fingers to her lips, feeling them starting to swell. “It felt like you wanted my mouth to cave in, you pressed so hard!”

“That’s how Alex kisses me!”

“That’s because you usually make a fuss about it and won’t let her do her thing quietly,” she punches Taiga’s shoulder, and they start walking back home, just like that.

Taiga swings the plastic bag back and forth, her ponytail swishing with her every step. She’s still blushing, the pink tips of her ears clashing with the red of her hair. Tatsuko keeps thumbing at her own mouth and snickering.

“Uhm,” Tiga says, scratches her neck again. The light from a street lamp bathes her face in light for a moment, and Tatsuko can see the flush on the bridge of her nose creep down to her cheeks. “When I was… er, if I’d done that when we were kids I… I mean, probably… ehm…” She makes a waving gesture with her hand, encompassing her red cheeks, the fall of her hair over her back, her jeans shorts and tanned legs. “I used to want to…”

Tatsuko tilts her head up to stare at her miserable blushing face, grinning. “Is my pure little sister trying to tell me that she would’ve used that awful kiss as spank bank material if she’d done it when she was thirteen?”

Taiga makes a choking noise and slaps her free hand on her own face to hide it. “Tatsuko!”

“I’m right, aren’t I? I feel so violated, and to think you were so cute. Did you ask Alex about kissing tips?”

“I hate you,” Taiga grumbles, staring at her from behind her fingers.

Tatsuko laughs, airy. “If it makes you feel any better, I had a few dreams about you, too.” More than a few, and obsessive, sometimes; so much that she’d started to feel dirty whenever they were together. She’s careful not to let any of this show on her face when Taiga peeks at her from behind her fingers, as if to assess if she’s serious. Tatsuko stares back. Taiga sighs, relieved. “Well, that’s… that’s great, then. I mean, I did say I wanted to marry you, when I was ten, so.” 

“I remember that,” Tatsuko says, smiling. 

Alex had told her, once, after Taiga had left for Japan: “So you dreamed about having sex with her a few times, what’s the big deal? People confuse affection with desire all the time, and you’re still so young: it’s not like it makes you a bad person.” At the time, it didn’t help any, but it helps now.

Taiga’s blush is receding, and that just won’t do. She’s just too cute when she blushes, so much that Alex and Tatsuko used to embarrass her only so they could take candids of her wide eyes, pouting lips and pink face. She’s pretty sure Alex still has those photos, somewhere in her mess of a house.

Tatsuko smirks. “Well, since we’re still around, you wanna go get a gelato? So you can stare at me as I eat it like a lecherous creep.”

Taiga makes a noise like she’s dying. “I _hate_ you.”

She just pries Taiga’s hand away from her face in answer. It’s sweaty, but she doesn’t mind when her fingers curl around her palm and squeeze. They walk the rest of the way back home swinging their entwined hands, back and forth, like the tide.

 

On the hottest day of summer, when it’s basically suicide to get out of the house and even keeping the air conditioner on at full force doesn’t help, Tatsuko decides to cut her hair.

She’s been thinking on it for a while. When she was a kid, she liked to keep it long to prove that, even though she liked basketball and could punch guys twice her size to the ground, she was still a girl; she could still like girly things, and not be any less fierce because of it. It was a statement as much as reassurance. Now, though, she’s grown up enough that she doesn’t need it anymore; and, more importantly, she doesn’t _want_ it. Her hair weights her down, sticks to her skin, chokes her in her sleep: it feels stifling like a blanket in august. 

She thinks of Atsuko, with her hatred for haircuts and absolute disregard for other people’s opinion, and makes her decision.

“Let’s go to an hair salon,” she says, coming into the living room. Taiga, who is sprawled on the floor reading Dime Magazine, gets up on her elbows, her skin making an audible sound when it unsticks from the floorboards.

“What? Why?”

“I want to cut my hair. It’s too long.”

Taiga’s eyes go wide as saucers. “Are you sure?”

Tatsuko remembers Taiga at ten, her hair so short you could mistake her for a boy, if you didn’t look carefully at the bow of her lips and the gentle slope of her waist. How she used to cry out of anger when kids at school mocked her for it.

“I’m sure.”

“But you love your hair!”

Tatsuko shrugs. “Not really. Come on, let’s go. It’s late enough that we shouldn’t get a sunstroke.”

Taiga keeps asking her if she’s sure all the way to the salon, and asks her one more time as she’s sitting down in front of a mirror.

“Oh my god, Taiga, I’m not getting a tattoo, I’m just cutting my hair,” Tatsuko says, smiling apologetically at the hairdresser.

“Yeah, but you haven’t cut it since we were kids. I mean, this is a big deal,” Taiga says, hovering near her and biting on her thumb nail.

Tatsuko had been the first to tell Taiga that she could love basket and still be a girl, and Taiga had lit up like a Christmas tree, and decided to never cut her hair ever again.

“You think so? It’s totally normal, for me. I just need an image change. After all, I’ll be an adult in two months.” She smiles up at Taiga and adds: “You look a lot better than me with it long anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” she grumbles, but finally sits down on one of the leather couches on the back of the shop and starts rifling through the magazines stacked near it.

“Sorry for making you wait,” Tatsuko tells her hairdresser.

“Don’t worry. What kind of style should we go for?”

She decides on an undercut. Left part long like before, sides and back buzzed. She doesn’t remember how her face looked when her hair was short: watching herself during the haircut is like staring at a stranger coming out from behind a curtain. Even if she told Taiga it isn’t a big deal, she can’t help but feel scared and giddy at the same time. 

Once it’s done, she blinks at her reflection and touches the right part of her head. Not finding hair on the way is disconcerting. Taiga is staring at her from the mirror with an alarmed expression.

Tatsuko smiles at the hairdresser, thanks him, pays, and then they get out. It’s so hot the air outside feels almost unbreathable, but she feels so light without her hair that she doesn’t really pay attention to it.

“So, how do I look?” she asks, to stop Taiga from sneaking worried looks at her from the corner of her eye.

“It… It suits you,” Taiga answers, sounding almost surprised. “You have a very beautiful face, Tatsuko, and I can see more of it with this haircut, so maybe… you actually look… better… like this?”

Tatsuko rises an eyebrow. “Was that supposed to be flattering?” 

Taiga blushes. “I don’t know! It feels so weird! I’ve known your face with hair all over it all my life and now, suddenly, puf, it’s not there.”

Tatsuko laughs. “It’s great, then.”

That evening, Atsuko stares at her for a minute or two from her computer screen, ChuChu Ice hanging forgotten from her lips, before she nods and mumbles “I told Murochin she looks prettier with her hair out of her face.”

“Taiga was shocked by it,” Tatsuko grins. “I guess it is pretty drastic.”

“That’s because Kagami is stupid,” Atsuko dismisses her. “When are you coming home, Murochin? Bring me snacks from America.”

 

Their last weekend in Los Angeles, when Alex has her day off, they decide to drive down to Hermosa Beach and rent some surfboards. Taiga and Tatsuko are both out of practice, but sense memory and Alex shouting instructions from her own board let them pick surfing back up quickly, allowing them to laugh at the newbies trying and failing to take on the bigger waves to show off.

They have to remind Alex to put on sunscreen every time she gets out of the water, because she’s a child who thinks sunburn can’t touch her.

Around midday, they decide that whoever falls off of her board first will have to pay for lunch. Taiga loses, but in the end, Alex is the one buying. “I’m the responsible adult here, after all. And you’re my kids, so.”

“I feel touched,” Tatsuko jokes, ignoring the truly gross noises Taiga is making as she stuffs her face with spaghetti carbonara.

Alex glares at her from behind her glass of red wine, in a way that tells her she would give her a noogie if she hadn’t just claimed to be an adult.

They spend the hottest hours of the day in the restaurant, and then wander out to walk around the promenade before taking the surfboards back out of the trunk of Alex’s Beetle and going back to surfing.

At some point, when Tatsuko and Taiga leave her alone, Alex befriends a group of Australian surfers with a cooler full of beer. She’s no lightweight, but the combination of heat and exhaustion, plus the fact that she’s already had that wine at lunch, make the alcohol go to her head faster than it usually would.

Tatsuko has to apologize to the Australians for the inconvenience, while Taiga drags Alex back to their spot on the beach, kicking sand everywhere in attempt to escape Alex’s drunken kisses.

“Responsible adult my ass,” Taiga grumbles, once Alex has crashed out on one of their beach towels.

Tatsuko laughs. “But look at her, doesn’t she look like an angel?” Alex chooses this moment to start snoring, loud and unattractive.

Both of them dissolve into laughter. 

Once Alex is awake and sober again, they take one last plunge in the ocean, staying near the shore, Taiga doggy-paddling in circles around Tatsuko and Alex. The sun has almost set when they drop off their surfboards at the shop where they rented them. Alex drives them back to Venice, apologizing profusely about getting drunk and falling asleep on them.

“It doesn’t matter,” Tatsuko smiles. “We had a lot of fun anyway.”

“It does matter because you kissed me on the mouth with a breath that could’ve killed a horse,” Taiga interjects. “But yeah, we had fun.” She leans into the rolled-down window of Alex’s car and gives her a hug. They wave goodbye as she drives off.

“Hey, wanna stop by Lidia’s for dinner?” Taiga asks. “I haven’t had a pupusa in ages.”

They go, and eat it on the beach. Tatsuko can’t remember the last time they did something like this, and it feels good. She’s sore from swimming and surfing, but not in the same way she is after practice. This ache feels sweeter, kinder. All of her muscles are loose, and listening to the tide relaxes her even more. Her skin feels tender and hot from the sun, and she wonders if she’s got sunburned - it would be ironic, after how much she nagged Alex to make her put sunscreen on. She can see little bits of skin peeling off of Taiga’s shoulders, almost hidden by the fall of her hair, turning frizzy because of the salty water.

“Hey, Tatsuko,” Taiga says, her mouth full. She’s such a grown up, living alone and taking care of herself, but she never really did grasp that you have to put an _acceptable_ amount of food in your mouth and then _chew_ before speaking. Tatsuko doesn’t really mind; she’s always surrounded by messy eaters, it must be fate.

“Yes?”

“I was wondering, what… Uhm. I mean, it’s your last year of high school. What do you want to do, once you’re done?”

Tatsuko sighs and puts her plastic plate down on the sand. She supports her weight on her arms and stretches her legs in front of her. She can feel the sand sticking to the heels of her feet, wedged between her toes. “I don’t know. I could come here to university, I’ve talked to Alex about UCLA. I wouldn’t mind staying in Japan, though. I like it, there.”

“And you would miss Murasakibara if you left,” Taiga adds. Tatsuko gives her a sidelong look, but Taiga is back to stuffing her face and doesn't notice.

“Also that,” she sighs.

“Well, if you’re going to keep playing basket,” Taiga says, cleans her mouth with the back of her hand, and she utters that _if_ like it’s not really a possibility, more like a formality. “I’ll take you on whenever we can.”

Tatsuko laughs. “Of course you think about basketball.”

“It’s the one thing I’m sure of,” Taiga says, and shrugs. “Also, let’s do this thing again. Going on holiday together. I don’t know if I’m going to stay in Japan or come back here, either, but I want to have more moments like this with you. Gotta make memories with my sister, after all.”

“God, Taiga, you’re so poetic,” Tatsuko snickers. Taiga punches her leg, and pouts when Tatsuko drapes her arm around her shoulders. “But of course. I don’t want to lose you, either.”

“Who’s poetic now,” Taiga sniffs, and tilts her head at an awkward angle to rub her cheek against the short sleeve of Tatsuko’s shirt.

Tatsuko pinches her arm. Taiga knocks their knees together. _My little sister_ , Tatsuko thinks, and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> i have to thank [bent](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thimble) for helping me decide whether puregami would actually utter the words "spank bank material" (as you read, she would not) and for telling me that himuro is good with kids, which inspired part of this fic (again, as you've read). also, you know, thanks in general.
> 
> i gotta tell you that i've never been to la, i've never surfed, never eaten a pupusa… basically, the only thing i wrote about that i've actually experienced is a drastic haircut, so you know. take all of this as a grain of salt, is what i'm saying.


End file.
